


What Will Be

by MrStride



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama, Epic in length, No Boy-Who-Lived (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 21:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19027957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrStride/pseuds/MrStride
Summary: Their wasn't a prophecy. The boy who was needed to end the war, didn't exist. This is the story of Harry Potter. A boy orphaned at the age of two who grows up in the shadow of a wizarding world on the brink of collapse.





	1. Prologue

Prologue

           

            The step heaved as Hagrid stepped onto it. He paused and looked down. _That’s new._ He retreated back to the previous step carefully as to not disturb the precious cargo in his arms before preceding to the upper step. And again, it sighed under him. A frown came upon him as he made a mental note to bring tools to fix the step the next time he was here. And there _would_ be a next time. Probably not soon after this visit—the war made that a guarantee.

            Only one other stepped heaved on him before he crested the stairs. The door to the orphanage now stood before him now. It was an old thing. Worn from years of service. Originally, it used to be white but now it was a sickly grey color. He had offered to fix it on multiple occasions even paint it to a more welcoming color, but Ms. Poltik had always declined his offer with a glare and a shout; she liked that it showed its history. But the doors history wasn’t a pleasant one. The door had seen its fair share of misery and pain. Maybe _too_ much even. Just staring at it made Hagrid uneasy.

            He wasn’t even sure how he became the courier for orphaned children. Actually, he knew why—everyone else was too busy with the war effort and because he couldn’t do magic that made him expendable. Expendable to do the things everyone else was too busy for. This wasn’t his only contribution to the war effort, but it was his primary one. And he _despised_ it. No. He _loathed_ it. Ferrying children to a place where they will know very little of love made him seethe at times. And seeing the children of whose parents he knew made him hateful.

            He looked down at the bundle in his arms and pushed back a bit of cloth. A mop of black hair revealed itself to him. He knew this ones parents well. When he found out about their death, he wanted to go find the bastard himself. But, of course, he couldn’t. It wasn’t his place. Not the place for a person who couldn’t do magic.

            Sighing, he covered the boy back up.

            Approaching the door, he raised a hand up to knock. He commanded the muscles that would allow him to knock to do it as gently as possible. Too often would he knock too hard. The first time he did so he got an earful from Ms. Poltik. And the third, and the fourth, and the tenth. Only just recently has he been able to control his strength. Some of the cracks that the door housed were actually a result of those previous uncontrollable times. Though that gave him a diabolical idea. If he knocked hard enough, he could probably break the door _accidentally._ He contemplated it for a moment before shaking his head. Probably not one of his best ideas. He would never hear the end of it from Ms. Poltik.  

            And so, he knocked. Gently.

            The door still rattled a bit but not enough to warrant any concern. Ms. Poltik was aware of his coming but even still it would probably take her a few minutes before she got to the door. She was rather old. And as a result, a bit slow. Not wanting to stare at the door he hated unconditionally for what could be ten minutes, he swiveled around to examine his surroundings.

            Stemple Lane was quite different from Diagon Alley. For starters, just as the name implied, it was a straight lane that had buildings of various sizes on either side. Quite different to Diagon with its loops and curves. That was, however, not what was most different about it. The _feel_ was different. He always felt welcomed in Diagon alley but here, he did not. Everyone looked at him suspiciously. But that wasn’t limited solely to himself; everyone looked everyone with suspicion. But still, it was quite nerve-racking. And for whatever reason, it was always so gray here. Even if it was sunny in the sky, down at street level it would be gray.

            Maybe that’s why Ms. Poltik didn’t want to paint the door; it matched with everything else.

            Finally, he heard the familiar sound of Ms. Poltik’s shuffling. It ceased after a moment and he took that as a sign that she was now by the door.  Her annoyed muttering followed by the sound of locks turning confirmed his suspicions. He mentally prepared himself as the door slowly opened inward. He didn’t hate Ms. Poltik, he barely hated anyone—except for _that_ bastard, of course. But that still didn’t mean that Ms. Poltik wasn’t difficult to interact with considering the situation he was in and her personality. Plus, he suspected that she didn’t very much care for him.

            He sighed.      

            The door was now open fully revealing a short hallway that connected to a longue room. On either side of the hallway was a singular door that led to who knows where. The first time he saw the interior of the orphanage he was quite shocked, to say the least. Everything was brown. Quite literally. The furniture, the walls, the flooring, all brown. He didn’t have anything against brown—his favorite overcoat was brown. But Ms. Poltik took it to the next level. He had gotten used to it now, but it was still unnerving to see.

            Ms. Poltik’s popped out from the around the door causing him to jump slightly and to cease his musings.

            “You’re late. You were supposed to be here at 02:00. It’s 02:23. Not everyone has the luxury of being able to take as much time as they want with things! Some of us have important things to attend to. So, when you say you’ll be here at a certain time you best be here at that time!” her grey eyes seethed at him and the wrinkly skin around her mouth became taut.

            “Sorry, Ma’am-” he was cut off.

            “And what had I told you about knocking too loudly! You very well could have woken the children! You know how long it takes to put all those children down for a nap? Hours! And your barbarous knock could have ruined all of that!”

            Hagrid looked at her, mouth agape. It had been a long time since she was this worked up as a result of something he did wrong.

            Ms. Poltik huffed. “Close that mouth right up! And get in here already. I’m not in the business of providing everyone their heat!”

            He did as instructed and bounded through the door.

            “Stop that insistent stomping of yours! You’ll wake the children!” Hagrid heard Ms. Poltik call from behind him. And so, as much as he could, he slowed and quieted his steps.

            Hagrid now found himself in the lounge room seated in one of the leathery, brown chairs after Ms. Poltik had finished lecturing him on his ‘antics’. The woman herself was now in the kitchen making tea for the both of them and he was now seated in the chair wondering why Dumbledore decided to use this particular orphanage. Luckily, the bundle in his arms didn’t stir once during hectic last few minutes. Which he was very much grateful for. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what Ms. Poltik would have done to him if he had awoken. Just even thinking about the repercussions sent shivers down his spine.

            Once again, he heard the familiar sounds of Ms. Poltik’s shuffling feet. Except for this time, it blended with the sound of small wheels rolling on wood. He assumed they belonged to the tea cart.

            His assumptions proved correct as the small stature of Ms. Poltik came into view from the hallway in front of him with a small tea cart in tow. She slowly maneuvered her way over to him before stopping by the arm of his chair. She grasped a teapot almost as large as her head before draining some of it into a teacup smaller than Hagrid’s palm.

            “Sugar?” she asked neutrally.

            Hagrid gave her his best smile. “Yes, thank you.”

            She looked him up and down before giving him a scowl. “Of course, you would.”

            And with that comment, he knew she was still upset with him. She only commented on his weight when so. He found it funny, however. For his own kind, he was actually on the smaller side. In fact, his own kind made fun of him for being _too scrawny_.

            Ms. Poltik poured herself some tea before giving herself some sugar. If this was anyone else, Hagrid would have noted the hypocrisy. But Ms. Poltik wasn’t just anyone else and so he let it go. Hagrid smiled at her instead as she finished making her tea. She, in return, gave him a grimace before using her malnourished looking legs to walk over the matching chair directly across from Hagrid.

            They both sipped on their tea for a time. Hagrid knew better than to initiate any conversion before Ms. Poltik did, especially during the times they had tea as rare as they were. A nervous bead of sweat rolled down his spine as he remembered _that_ incident. He learned his lesson ten and so he would remain silent.

            And it was silent for a while. A silence that was more deafening than a roar from a dragon.

            Ms. Poltik set her tea glass down and took in a deep breath before exhaling it.

            “Bring the child here. Come on, bring him here,” she told Hagrid as she motioned with her hands for him to bring the boy over.

            Hagrid set down his teacup and looked down at the boy. His heart twanged with sorrow as he looked down at the face that matched the friends he had lost. And then it twanged with anger and pity as he realized the life the boy would have in this orphanage. He petitioned to keep the boy, to raise him himself. But ultimately, that idea was shot down as quickly as it was uttered. Dumbledore felt it was safer to have children that were the sons and daughters of people that opposed the bastard to be disconnected from the war as much as possible. And that involved being disconnected from the people involved in it. But everyone was involved in the war, including Ms. Poltik.

            He used a finger to caress the boy’s cheek. Before he brought the boy over to the orphanage, he contemplated with himself just running off with the boy. But with no magic and no connections outside everyone involved in the war, he would be found as easy as a bright fire burning in the middle of the night. So reluctantly, he gave in. A decision he was starting to regret.

            _Too late now._

            Hagrid staggered to his feet and started walking over to Ms. Poltik. Her eyes trailed his movements as he came towards her. Ms. Poltik stretched her arms upward in a gesture that told Hagrid to give her the boy. Hagrid hesitated for a moment, and as he did, Ms. Poltik’s gestures became more insistent. He sighed and started to hand the boy over.

            He paused and his eyes widened.

            The boy had awoken, and his eyes. His eyes. Those were her eyes! Her eyes were staring right at him! The exact same emerald green with a hint of mischief. Hagrid could feel himself begin to choke up as his gaze locked with those eyes. It only lasted for a moment. For the boy’s eyes turned away from his and instead locked with Ms. Poltik’s as she took him into her arms.

            “He has quiet the eyes, doesn’t he?” Ms. Poltik said as she wiggled her fingers at the boy making him laugh.

            A laugh that made Hagrid’s heart heavy. He felt numb. It was hard with the other children but not this hard. He thought he could be strong as he handed over his friend’s child to someone he barely knew. But, he couldn’t. He felt his strength. No. He felt his entire self melting away. Like he was the last bit of snow on a warm spring day. He needed to get out there before he did something he would come to regret.

            Hagrid coughed to push back the lump in his throat, “I best, uh, be going. I have other things need taken care of.”

            Hagrid nodded to her and started to make his way out of the lounge.

            “Wait!” he heard Ms. Poltik say. He turned around slowly and refaced her. “You never gave me his name,” she spoke in an annoyed tone as Hagrid turned back around.

            Hagrid searched the walls behind her, trying to control the tears that were guaranteed to flow at any moment.

            Hagrid swallowed hard. “His name is Harry,” he said reluctantly after a moment.

            “Harry Potter.”


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Nine Years Later….

* * *

 

 

            “You ready?” Harry whispered.

            Luna chewed on her bottom lip before nodding hesitantly. “I think so.”

             “Then let’s finish this.”

            Gripping his stick a bit tighter, Harry looked on towards the door. The door that led to Luna’s room. And when opened, would reveal the ugly husk known as the Dead Man. They had spent weeks planning for this moment. Weeks waiting for him to come back into one of their rooms. They were tired. They were sore. And, if they were both being a little honest, a bit hungry. But snacks—though they wanted them badly—would have to wait until the Dead Man was gone.

            Harry took in a deep breath before taking his first few hesitant steps towards the door. Luna trailed not far behind. They tried to step as quietly as possible. But the floor seemed to not want to play along. It sighed and creaked as they walked. Blasted old building.

            “You think he hears us?” Luna whispered nervously.

            Harry’s grip tightened along on his stick as the floor groaned. “I hope not,” Harry whispered, before quickly adding, “I mean, even if he can, I doubt he would even care. He never seems to care when we leave our rooms when he is walking right in front of our beds.”

            With a few more careful steps, they were now in front of Luna’s door. Harry, as carefully as possible, pressed his ear against it. He strained to hear anything. But all he heard was the sound of his own blood pumping through his veins. Confused, Harry moved his ear away from the door.

            “Do you hear him?” Luna whispered.

            Ignoring Luna’s question, Harry returned to the door. But this time, he cupped his free hand around his ear. Though once again, he was only greeted by the nauseating sounds of his own blood pumping. His eyebrows knitted together.

            “Nothing,” Harry finally answered as he turned to face Luna.

            “Nothing? So, like…he’s gone?”

            “I don’t know. I just don’t hear anything.”

            “Here, let me try.”

            Luna walked up to him and handed off her stick. She then walked up to door, and similarly to harry, cupped her hands around her ear and pressed her makeshift funnel against the door. She stood their far longer then Harry had. But based on the frown that marred her face, he deduced that she hadn’t been able to hear anything either. And his deduction was proven correct when she relinquished her ear from the door and gave Harry the same expression he had given her when he heard nothing.

            “Nothing,” Luna whispered as she took back her stick.

            “He has to be in their still,” Harry mused audibly after a moment, “We blocked the windows and the door is still locked.”

            “Maybe he’s trying to trick us. Trying to get us to let our guard down or something,” Luna offered.

            “Would he even be able to do that? The guys a loo…” Harry cut himself off. He knew how much Luna hated that word. Though if she minded, she did not show it.

            An uneasy silence fell between them as they stared at the door. The Dead Man was always muttering to himself. Though they never understood what he was saying; his mutters were always in gibberish. Or at least, being spoken in some weird language that they couldn’t understand. Either way, they used his mad talking to know his location. But now, they were blind as moles. He could either be still in Luna’s room and was simply trying to trick them or he managed to somehow escape. But with all his exists blocked off, the latter option didn’t make any sense. But the former option made even less sense based on what they knew about him.

            Well, only one way to find out.

            “We should get into position,” Harry leaned over and whispered.

            Luna gave him a perturbed look. “I don’t think this is a good idea anymore, Harry. What if he has his own trap setup? You could get hurt, I could get hurt and Ms. Poltik would be even more mad than she usually is. Plus, he may not even be in their anymore.”

            Harry grimaced at hearing Ms. Poltik’s name. “Look. Even if he is not in there, we still have to go in. I mean, you still have to sleep in there,” Harry said before sighing, “Just get into position, Luna. The sooner we get this over with the better,” Harry finished as he got into his own position; next to the place where the door would open up.

            “Merlin, Harry…” Harry heard Luna mumble after a moment. Obeying what he asked, however, she got into her own position next to the doorknob.

            Harry watched as Luna reached out a shaky hand to turn the lock. Unlocked, her fingers then wrapped slowly and delicately around the knob. His heart quickened as he watched her work. This was finally it. The accumulation of their weeks of planning. While he seemed placid on the outside, internally he was plagued by waves of nervousness. They had planned around the Dead Mans oblivious nature. But now it seemed he was possibly aware of their upcoming attempt to subdue him—assuming he was still in there.

            A tense nod from Luna alerted Harry to her readiness. Harry stared at the door, swallowing hard to keep his nausea down before he too nodded. Hearing the small clink of the doorknob turning caused him to grasp his stick tighter. His palms would surely hurt later. But for now he did not feel it.

            And then the door opened.

            The plan they devised had originally called for Harry to quickly rush into the Luna’s room once the door had opened and begin pummeling on the Dead Man with his stick. Luna would then follow in shortly thereafter and assist in said pummeling. While complex, the plan was guaranteed to subdue the man. They would then, of course, trumpet their victory to everyone residing in the orphanage, rubbing in their faces that they were, in fact, telling the truth this whole time. They would be hailed as heroes! But plans, even ones intently crafted over the course of many weeks, can sometimes not go according to what was initially planned. And unfortunately for both Harry and Luna, their plan happened to be one of those destined to fail.

            Instead of pummeling the Dead Man heroically, said pummeling was conducted on Harry. Luna, not listening to Ms. Poltik, chose to simply forgo cleaning her room. Meaning, unbeknownst to Harry, their was a dirty article of clothing lingering innocently at the entrance to Luna’s room. And so, when Luna pulled open the door, and he ran in as planned, he had found himself staring at the ceiling, flailing about as an unforeseen hazard sent him crashing toward the unforgiving floor.

            Waves of pain surged up and down Harry’s spine as the air was forcefully pushed out of him as he hit the floor. Everything hurt. His pain, however, was destined to get worse. As planned, Luna rushed into the room. Unplanned, however, was Harry laying on the ground as a storm of pain surged through him. So, when Luna entered her room, her foot slammed into the top of his head, sending her toppling over. And for the second time in the span of seconds, Harry found himself empty of air as Luna’s knee jammed into his stomach.

            They laid on the ground, a tangled mess of limbs. Harry heard the quiet whimpers of Luna as she laid on top of him. Honestly, if he had enough air, he would probably find himself whimpering too. Alas, he did not. And so, he laid their as silent as a windless day as pain ravaged his body.

            A minute or two passed before Harry had felt some semblance of normality in his body—enough for him to be able to finally sit upright. Harry gently nudged Luna’s legs off of him with one hand as the other went to cradle his back. An audible gasped escaped him as his back popped as he straightened. He will definitely be feeling that later.

            Upright, he rubbed his backside as he examined Luna’s room. It was dark, almost pitch black even. What little moonlight there was, was having difficulty penetrating Luna’s room. Nevertheless, he was still able to make out some his surroundings with a little squinting. And squinting around the room, it became painfully obvious that the Dead Man wasn’t with them. Which meant all the pain and suffering he had just endured was all for naught.

            Drat.

            The subtle movements of Luna sitting upright pulled Harry from his musings. She appeared to be cradling her elbow.

            “Are you okay?” Harry asked, concerned.

            “I think so,” Luna began after a moment, “I think my elbow is bleeding and my knee hurts, but everything else feels fine. Are you alright?” Luna finished as she rubbed her eyes and turned towards Harry.

            Harry nodded. “Yeah, I think so.” Lying, of course. But he didn’t want to worry her.

            Luna nodded back. “Sorry I tripped over you. And for falling on you. I didn’t realize you were on the floor,” she paused. “How did you end up on the floor anyway?”

            “I slipped on something.”

            “Oh.”

            Harry watched as Luna averted her eyes and examined the room just as he had. And just as he had, it appeared that she came to the same conclusion.

            “So…I’m guessing he wasn’t in here?”

            Harry shook his head.

            “Then…” Luna began before drifting off, her eyes widening. Harry looked at her, bewildered by her sudden change in mood. But then his own eyes too began to widen. The room was beginning to brighten. Not by the natural light of the sun, but by a light only casted by an artificial one. Like a candle. Which could only mean one thing: someone had heard them. And that someone was more than likely Ms. Poltik.

            Harry swiveled around to look into the hallway. With each passing second, the section of the hall outside of Luna’s door was growing brighter. This was bad. This was very, very bad. Ms. Poltik was going to butcher them! They had planned to have the Dead Man captured so any trouble they would have been in would have been hopefully voided. And, well…that genius plan required them having said Dead Man, which, obviously, they did not. He swiveled back around to face Luna.

            “What are we going to do?” Luna said, snapping out of her fearful trance.

            “I don’t know. But we need to come up with something!” Harry said frantically.

            But it was too late.

            Harry knew as Luna’s face started to glow and as her eyes became wider—maybe for the very last time, that the end of days was upon them. Ms. Poltik had arrived.  

             “Ms. Lovegood. Mr. Potter. I see that the both of you have chosen to forsake my expected bedtime.” she said, eyeing them coolly.

            Harry slowly swiveled around. “Ms. Poltik,” he said, mustering up his best smile.

            “Don’t sweat talk me, boy,” she said, leveling him with a hawkish stare. “Why are you in Luna’s room? And why are you both on the floor?” she finished, her eyes traveling back and forth between him and Luna.  

            He pulled on his collar. That stare was making him sweat. If she ever lost the orphanage, she would do good in an ice melting business—assuming there was one. “I…” he trailed off, eyeing the room around him. He needed a lie. _Fast_. His eyes fell on Luna’s bed when an idea dawned on him.

            “Luna fell out of her bed and I came-”

            Ms. Poltik held up a hand, silencing him. Harry swallowed audibly.

            “I asked for the truth, Mr. Potter. I do not recall asking for the poorly thought out delusion that you were about to make me suffer through,” she said, sighing.

            Harry opened and closed his mouth a half a dozen times. It felt itchy and dry. How had she seen through his lie so easily and so quickly? She must have seen his confusion because she gave him one of her rare condescending smiles.

            “Ms. Lovegood,” Ms. Poltik began, her attention solely on Luna now. “Since Mr. Potter is obviously incapable of telling the truth, would you mind indulging me?”

            Harry side-eyed Luna, trying to draw as little attention as he could on himself. By the looks of it, she was doing the same to him. He knew she wanted him to tell her what she should do. But he couldn’t; his back was against a wall. She would have to come up with something on her own.

            Which judging, by the dismal smile she was now giving him, she had thought of something. And knowing what that smile meant, he knew she was going to do the thing he was trying fervently to avoid—she was going to tell the truth. Harry eye’s went wide as he shook his head as subtly as possible, trying to tell her not to do what she planned on doing. But the smile continued to remain anyway. Harry swallowed. This wasn’t going to end well.

            Luna mumbled something as her eyes started to sag towards the ground—mumbling something Harry couldn’t hear. But dread seeped into his stomach anyway. Ms. Poltik must have realized the same thing, because she let out an agitated sigh and used two of her fingers to push her right ear a bit forward.

            “Ms. Lovegood,” Ms. Poltik said, drawing out her name. “It’s considered polite to make eye contact while speaking with someone. It also makes conversation easier if you don’t mumble.”

            Luna slowly shifted her eyes upward, meeting the gaze of Ms. Poltik. Harry could tell she was having difficulty doing so as her hands were trembling.

            Luna took in a deep breath. “We locked…” she trailed off, attempting to get her trembles under control. “We locked the Dead-”

            Just as she had done to Harry, she swiftly shot up a hand to silence Luna. Ms. Poltik stood completely still for a moment. The only movement was the back and forth motion of her fingers as they massaged her nose. Harry looked back towards Luna who gave him a nervous frown. He would have to work on her ability to lie.

            “How many times must we go through this?” Ms. Poltik finally spoke, breaking the dreadful silence. “I tell you time and time again. There is no such thing as this ‘Dead Man’,” she let out an agitated breath. “And he is certainly not in this orphanage. If he was, the wards would have picked up on his presence. And the wards have not done so.”

            “But he’s real! He was just in this-” Harry started before being cut off again with a hand.

            “Mr. Potter enough!” she barked, glaring down at him. “I’ve indulged you two in this foolishness long enough. If I here a single peep this so called ‘Dead Man’ ever again, then you can consider your Hogwarts admission revoked,” her eyes locked with each of theirs. “I will see to it personally.”

            Harry went to protest but was quickly silenced by a withering stare.

            “As for your punishment,” she continued. “And to help keep your minds off this ‘Dead Man’ nonsense, you’ll be in charge of the laundry. For the _rest of the month_. You’ll wash, dry, and fold every article of clothing _by hand_ and if I hear a single complaint from either of you, then I will assign you to laundry duty for the next month as well,” she paused and gave them both a sharp look. “Do I make myself clear?”

            Harry sighed and nodded, reluctantly. Luna must have too.

            “I see that we are in agreement. Ms. Lovegood get back into your bed. And see to it that you don’t _fall out_ this time. Also, clean up this room,” she said, as her eyes trailed around the room. “This is an orphanage for children, not rats. And you Mr. Potter,” she began, her eyes shifting to him. “Get to your room and get to sleep. You’ll need your rest as I expect both of you to be attending to the laundry tomorrow afternoon.”

            Harry let out a sigh as he scratched the back of his head. As he finally pulled himself off the ground, he eyed Luna. Luna, seeing his gaze, gave him a mournful smile that Harry deciphered as “I’m sorry”. Harry just nodded back. He knew she was sorry. Luna just couldn’t lie like he could. Honestly though, he thought the punishment would be way worse. Maybe Ms. Poltik did have that mythical soft spot he heard from legends of old.

            Ms. Poltik wished him goodnight pointedly as he walked past her and out of Luna’s room. He didn’t bother to say it back. She would probably find a way to punish him for that too. He let out a sigh. This was not how things were supposed to go down. Their were supposed to be parading around by now showing off their victory. They were supposed to be hailed as heroes! But instead, they got laundry duty for almost three weeks and he would probably lose his favorite stick. Bummer.

 

* * *

 

           

            The next day, just as expected of them, Harry and Luna found themselves in laundry room toiling silently away at the laundry. Laundry, as expected, is quite work intensive when done by hand. He and Luna had only been at for an hour but already they were exhausted. And they’ve only done one load! This wasn’t going to be a fun punishment. Not that any punishment was fun really.

            He sighed.

            “This sucks,” Harry said, as he rubbed someone’s shirt maybe a bit too roughly against the wash board.

            Luna gave him a matching sigh as she finished folding a shirt. “Yeah,” she said as she grabbed a red skirt out of the pile on the table in front of her. She began to connect the corners of the skirt before pausing. “I’m sorry I got us into this,” she said, chewing on her bottom lip, gazing down at Harry. “I just couldn’t come up with anything that would convince Ms. Poltik. You know how bad I am at lying.”

            Harry stretched his arms above his head as he nodded. “I know. I don’t blame you.”         

            A restless silence fell between them as they went back to their work. Harry, scrubbing the grime out of the clothing before proceeding to throw the articles into a larger pool of warm water that loomed before him. And Luna, folding intently the many of variety of clothing items that had been dried and sticking them into a variety of piles. It was monotonous work. _Very_ monotonous work. And it was driving him crazy. They were supposed to do three more weeks of this nonsense? He could barely stand an hour.

            “You know none of this would have happen if,” Harry paused, looking around while tossing a shirt into the vat of water. “If _he_ didn’t somehow get out. So, if anyone is to blame its him.”

            Luna didn’t respond, choosing to instead to continue working diligently. Harry eyed her as he wiped the sweat off his face with his shirt. He knew she heard him. He could tell by the subtle twitch of her nose.

            “I’ve been thinking about how he got out,” he began, as he stood up from the floor and moved smoothly towards Luna’s table. “He has to be using some type of magic. It’s the only way any of this would make sense.”

            Harry, now at the table, grabbed a shirt and began to fold it. Eyeing Luna, he continued.

            “It would explain how he is able to get into our rooms and leaves without anyone noticing _and_ it would explain how he is able to bypass the wards so easily. He has to be using some powerful magic though if he is able to remain undetected,” Harry shook his head. “Anyway, if he can do magic, then our sticks wouldn’t even have been able to do anything. So, our plan would have failed anyway. But since he can do magic, then we need too…”

            “Harry,” Luna interjected as she gently sat a down folded pair of trousers. “I don’t think we should talk about this anymore.”

            Harry gave her a frown. “Why?”

            “I want to go to school,” Luna said after a moment, turning to face Harry. “You heard Ms. Poltik last night, she said she wouldn’t let us go if she caught us talking about….” She trailed off.

            Harry went to respond but paused as he heard someone coming down the stairs. Instead, he quickly took a pair of shorts off the pile of clothes and began to dutifully fold them. He eyed the stairs, catching Luna mimicking him. A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he saw who it was or rather, who both of them were. It was only Anla and Oliver. Two of the younger kids in the orphanage. Harry watched as Oliver whispered something into Anla’s ear. Whatever it was, Anla mustn’t have liked it—she chased Oliver out the back door with a fist raised above her head.

            And with a thud, Harry and Luna were alone once more.

            “It’s not like we can ignore it, Luna. You know that.”

            Luna looked at the pile of laundry, despairingly. “It’s not like he does anything to us. He just paces around and mumbles,” she finished, meekly.

            “Whose to say how long that’ll last though,” Harry said, tapping the table methodically. “He used to only sit in the corner and now he’s at our beds,” he sighed. “I have a bad feeling about this, Luna. And no one is willing to believe us. So, it’s either we do something about this, or…” he shrugged.

            Luna chewed on her lower lip. “What do you have in mind?”

            “We need to fight magic with magic,” Harry said, growing suddenly serious. “We need the wand.”

            Luna squinted at him, silent for a moment. “The wand? The same wand we spent _months_ looking for? _Months_ in some stinky sewer,” her nose scrunched. “What makes you think we could find it now?”

            Harry smiled to himself. He had piqued her interest. Honestly though, he had no idea if they could even find it now. It had been months since they last looked for the blasted thing. But he at least knew it was still down there—the reward offer was still posted everywhere. Thank Merlin the dimwit charmed the thing so it couldn’t be summoned—not even by himself. And thanks to that oversight that they now had the opportunity to claim it for themselves instead of for the reward money (like they had originally planned on doing). Assuming they could find it.

            “We already mapped a lot of the sewer. We would just need to go the spots we missed.”

            “I don’t know Harry,” Luna said, resuming her folding. “Even if we do find it and I don’t even believe for a second that we will, but assuming we do, it’s probably broken by now. It’s been sitting in the sewer for almost a year now,” she paused. “Plus, it’ll probably smell.”

            Thunderous laughter stirred them from their conversation. They both looked over into the adjacent lounge room where the noise was hailing from. Seconds later, the back door opened for a second time. And with it, came a small herd of people. Within that herd of people were some faces that Harry easily recognized. Alfred, who was missing his left eye, Caheo, whose light blue eyes deeply contrasted with his jet-black hair, and Demi whose long red hair almost touched the floor. Their were two other faces Harry couldn’t place. That wasn’t uncommon, however, with how frequently kids were in and out of the orphanage these days. But then he saw one more person he recognized, trailing at the tail end of the group. A person who made his blood boil.     _Marvin._ _Blasted Marvin._

            Harry and Luna have must have caught Marvin’s eye because as he and his group started to turn into a hallway, he stopped. Which also caused the rest of the herd to stop as well. Slowly turning to face them, he smiled at them, revealing his crooked, broken teeth. Just staring at that smile made Harry want to vomit. And honestly, made him want to crack a few more of his teeth too.

            “Well, well, well…what do we have here?” Marvin said, as he and his group dawdled over.

            Harry leveled him with a glare. “What do you want Marvin?”

            Marvin threw a hand up to his chest, clutching it. “What do I want?” he scanned over them; eyes wide. “I can’t say hello to two of my best friends?”

            Marvin looked them over one last time before he bowed his head. His hands went to his eyes, rubbing them, pretending to cry. His mock cry, however, slowly morphed into full blown laughter which his posse was more than happy to participate in. And after a moment, the whole room was filled with loud, awkward laughter that just happened to be quiet enough to not attract Ms. Poltik. Either way, it was giving Harry a headache. And he _hated_ headaches. Merlin, he just wanted to punch that blasted git in the face. 

            “Oh wow; Couldn’t keep that going,” he said, nudging some boy in the stomach that Harry didn’t recognize—he keeled over. Marvin paid him no head. “Your ugly faces just make it so _hard_ to be serious.”

            “I bet you laugh often then with your face the way it is,” came Harry’s snarky reply.

            Marvin stared at Harry before bellowing out another loud laugh which again, his posse participated in.

            “That’s a good one Harry, a real good one,” he said, wiping a real tear away. “See that’s why we’re best friends; we jive so well. We are like…we are like…hmm. Alfred give me something,” he finished, turning to Alfred. 

            Alfred scratched at his chin. “Uh…you’re like a pair of shoes. You know, cause’ there a right and left one and you need bo-”

            Marvin threw up a hand, cutting him off. “Thank you, Alfred,” he said, turning back to Harry. “You see Harry, you and I are like a pair of shoes. You’re the left one and I’m the right one.”

            He reached down and then a clumsily took off his left shoe. Off, he held it at eye-level to Harry.

            “See Harry,” he said, tilting the shoe. “This is you.”

            The next moment, Harry found himself keeling over after Marvin’s shoe implanted itself into his stomach. A wall of laughter pressed against him as Luna delicately placed her hands along his back. His stomach hurt. It hurt _a lot._ It hurt worst then when Luna kneed him last night. He wanted to heave.

            “Are you alright, Harry?” came Luna’s concerned voice.

            “Ahhh, look everyone! _Looney_ is caring for her boyfriend! How adorable,” Marvin said mockingly between laughs.

            Luna helped Harry off the ground as he cradled his stomach. He could tell it would bruise later but for right now, that did not matter. Marvin had just called Luna, looney. No one called her that. _No one_.

            “Don’t call her that you git,” said Harry through gritted teeth. Luna whispered to him to stop but he shrugged it off. He wasn’t going to back down.

            Marvin commanded his posse to quiet down with a hand. Listening, they did. Marvin pursed his lips and started walking slowly towards Harry, hobbling as he did. Reaching him, Marvin paused and rubbed his chin, thoughtful like.

            “You know Harry, I usually slug the person that calls me a git. But I’m not going to do that this time. You wanna know why? Because that would be beneath me. It would be like me kicking a dog,” he paused itching a bit closer to Harry’s face—his breath smelt bad. “You see I used to have a dog, Harry. And sometimes that dog would do something wrong. I would punish him, of course. What owner wouldn’t? But you wanna know what I learned, Harry?” he inched even closer, their noses almost touching. “I learned, Harry, that the dog didn’t know it did anything wrong.”

            Marvin sighed and wrestled with the shoe he had thrown at Harry, putting it back on. Bending down, he started to tie the shoelaces.           

            “I loved that dog Harry. My mom got rid of him though, told me wouldn’t could afford him. Kinda like what she did to me,” he tautly pulled his shoelaces and straightened back out. “I guess this is my roundabout way of saying that you are beneath my old dog, Harry. You’re the dirt I walk on. Something that doesn’t even deserve to be looked at.”

            And with that, he smiled and twirled a finger. His posse immediately responded and turned around and started marching towards the hallway across from the laundry room.

            “Oh!” he said turning around but not stopping. “We’ll keep any eye out for that Dead Man of yours. Can’t have him haunting my two best friends!”

            Another roar of laughter rocked the room. It slowly began to dwindle, however, as they went further and further down the hallway until nothing of it remained. Nothing but a humiliating, angry silence. Harry mustered as much anger as he could and glared at the door. He was always picking on them. Making fun of them since he came to the orphanage. As Luna turned him away from the hall, he hoped that Marvin could feel his bottomless rage.

            “Come on…let’s get back to the laundry,” Luna whispered.

 

* * *

 

           

            Harry heard someone softly knocking at his door. But he lacked the energy to answer it. Nor did he really care who was knocking—he just wanted to be left alone. He sighed, leaning his head against the wall. He and Luna had finished the laundry an hour ago and since then, he’s been locked in his room, laying on his bed. He felt terrible with how the last few hours of laundry duty went. To say the whole ordeal with Marvin upset him would be an understatement. And Luna bore the brunt of it. He had been a real git to her. But not once did she say anything.

            His head fell into his hands. He wasn’t even mad about the Marvin thing anymore. Thinking back with how he treated Luna, he deserved it ten times over—a hundred times over even. He was just so ashamed with himself. And now he found himself wallowing in his own self-pity.

            Was he any better than Marvin?

            The knocking stopped. But it was quickly replaced by an awkward shuffling of feet and a familiar voice. “Harry?” came the muffled voice of Luna.

            Harry lifted his head and eyed the door. He watched it for a moment but ultimately didn’t bother to respond. He wanted to, but his shame was chocking him.

            “Can I come in?”

            It seemed Luna wasn’t willing to wait for his response as the door jerked open making Harry jump. The light from the hall blinded him a little—he had been sitting in the dark for too long. Luna’s head poked from behind the door after a second. They are stared at each other, blue eyes meeting green. He was the first to avert his gaze, sending it spiraling towards the floor. Luna must have taken this as him inviting her into his room as he found her sitting on his bed, mere inches from him seconds later.

            They sat in uncomfortable silence. Harry occupied himself by staring at a wall and Luna spent her time folding and then unfolding a corner of a piece of paper she was holding.

            “You know,” Luna said, breaking the silence. “I don’t care that they call me Loony. I haven’t cared for a very long time.”

            Harry could tell from the corner of his eye that she had turned to face him. He decided to not meet her gaze, instead choosing to maintain his stare down with the wall—he was losing.

            “I don’t care what they think of me anymore,” Luna reached over and grabbed his hand. “Because…I know what you think of me, and that’s all that matters.”      

            Harry rubbed at his eyes, a large lump sitting uncomfortably in his throat. He wanted to respond, but he was suffocating on his own emotions. So, instead, he just nodded. A nod that articulated everything he felt. Luna must have understood as the grip on his hand tightened.

            He didn’t deserve a friend like her.

            “I found our old maps. They were sitting in some old box beneath my bed.”

            She unleashed his hand and gently set some paper on his lap.

            “So…how about we go find that wand?”


End file.
